


get bent

by tarcanza



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 07:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarcanza/pseuds/tarcanza
Summary: "You waiting for permission, Jonny?" Kaner drawls, head cocking to the side. His eyes are bright, just as feverish as they had been in the context of the booming bass and packed bodies and dim lights.And then in one fluid motion, Kaner's so close that Jonny can almost taste the salt of the sweat on his skin, nose nuzzled against the side of Jonny’s neck before he tilts his head back. "You've always had it," he whispers, lips brushing against Jonny’s ear.orJonny spends a lot of time thinking about bending Kaner over.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 36
Kudos: 141





	get bent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dauhu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dauhu/gifts).



> Dedicated to the wonderful [Dauhu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dauhu/pseuds/Dauhu/works?fandom_id=17959080). V, I honestly don't know how I would've survived this past year without you. Thank you for your friendship <3
> 
> Oodles and oodles of thanks to [thathockey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thathockey/pseuds/thathockey/works?fandom_id=17959080) for making sure this fic actually makes sense. Tysm for your time, love, and support 🥺

Jonny spends a lot of time thinking about bending Kaner over. 

It’s really fucking disturbing.

Or at least it used to be. Ok no yeah it _definitely_ kind of still is if Jonny sits back and thinks about it, so usually he just—doesn't. Do that.

Listen. 

Jonny’s a determined guy—to the point of lunacy, according to some people. He’s tried it all. Picturing naked grandmas, naked grandpas, the ugliest coach he’s ever had. Showering with water so cold it made his teeth chatter. Made himself watch as Kaner pissed into the toilet while Jonny brushed his teeth. Even had a man-to-man with his dick, which is something his dignity is never going to recover from. 

Despite it all, when he sees Kaner doing dumbbell rows against a bench, all he can think about is walking over, pulling Kaner’s shorts down and rutting into his ass right then and there. 

It’s just a fact of life. 

The sky is blue, grass is green. Kesler is a snotty little prick, and Jonathan Toews wants to fuck Patrick Kane. 

Hard, fast. Everywhere, all the time. 

He watches Kaner flail around on the dance floor, curls matted with sweat and hips moving in a way that hips were not designed to move. “Oh my god,” Seabs strangles out, half-laughing, half-wincing into his glass. “I think my eyes are legitimately on fire,” he says, eyes wide with fascination and horror. “But I can’t look away.” 

“Yeah,” Jonny says vaguely, schooling his features into something he hopes projects _haha Kaner’s such a moron_ and not _I’m fantasizing about dragging him into the nearest bathroom and railing him._

He’d blame it on the alcohol, but he’s tipsy at _best._ Then Kaner starts doing the fucking Kaner Shuffle up on this little brunette and Jonny’s dick twitches in his pants, and he knows that no amount of alcohol could ever explain _that._

“M’ going to the bathroom,” he announces as he abruptly stands up, and Seabs gives him this sympathetic little look like he too can relate to the desire to get away from whatever the fuck is happening on the dance floor. If only he knew. 

The thing is. 

The thing is. 

Kaner would—

Kaner might—

Jonny thinks he’d probably let him, is the thing. 

Is the _worst_ thing, really. He blinks at himself in the smudged bathroom mirror and remembers Kaner peering over his shoulder in the middle of doing a row and shooting Jonny a quick smile. Arching his back just a little, ass popping out in a way that flirted with the line of being suggestive. 

Pictures every charged silence over the years, every lingering touch, every lingering look. Hears his own voice echo in his head, going a fraction too low and smooth, and Kaner’s coy head-tilt in response, hint of a smirk on his face. 

Sees Kaner wrapping his lips around his beer bottle earlier in the night, looking straight at Jonny while he tipped his head back, baring his throat so Jonny could watch him swallow. 

Yeah, Kaner would let him. 

Probably _wants_ to let him, but Jonny can’t. He can’t. It would be stupid. Well, no, that’s the understatement of the century—it would be _catastrophic_ in so many ways and levels that he can’t even begin to list them all. He’s known _that_ about as long as he’s wanted to stick his dick in Kaner in the first place. 

It’s stupid. Repeats it in his head like one of those positive affirmation mantras his conditioning coach has him recite. _It’s stupid, it’s stupid, it’s stupid!_ Walks out of the bathroom and catches sight of Kaner leaning back on the bar, elbows on the counter and head thrown back, chest moving rapidly like he’s trying to recover all the air the stuffy dance floor stole from his lungs. 

His hair’s a disaster, his shirt’s stained, and Jonny wants to fill him with cock so bad his dick aches. 

It’s so, so stupid. 

Jonny finds himself walking over anyway. 

“Nice moves,” he says casually, slotting into the space next to Kaner against the bar. He lets his shoulders press against Kaner’s, soaking up the heat of his body. Kaner’s eyes are closed and stay closed, so Jonny takes the opportunity to scan over the jut of Kaner’s collarbone, the sweat sheening his skin, his nipples, peaked under his shirt. Imagines sucking one into his mouth and feels his neck go hot at the thought of how Kaner would cry out in response. 

Kaner smiles briefly, still not bothering to open his eyes. This close, Jonny can see the veins mapping across the thin skin of his eyelids, lashes long and fluttering slightly. Kaner juts his chin in the direction of the bathroom. “Did the trick,” he says simply, and oh yeah. Little brunette. Jonny swallows dryly, and runs a palm over his pants, wishing he still had his beer in hand. 

“Gonna show her a good time, eh?” Jonny chirps, except it doesn’t come out as a chirp at all. It makes Kaner open his eyes and blink up at Jonny. Slow, heavy drags of the lids while he scans over his face. He takes a few more seconds to wet his lips with his tongue, and Jonny’s palms start to itch. 

“Think she’ll show _me_ a good time," Kaner says eventually, head tilting to the side. A little. Just a little. Kaner’s eyes flick towards the bathroom and Jonny almost misses the quick exhale he gives before he meets Jonny’s gaze again. "Real eager,” he murmurs, looking straight up at him. His eyes glint in the low light, clear blue looking up at Jonny from under his lashes. “She's going to be a good fuck, I can tell." His chin tilts up as he says it, like it’s a challenge. Jonny feels shaky, suddenly aware of the way his pulse is racing. 

“Hmm,” Jonny hums out lightly, tracing the plump curve of Kaner’s bottom lip with his eyes. This is stupid. So stupid. But Jonny’s been dealing with a _years-_ long case of blue balls, and—he thought it would go away, but it didn’t. Feels heat shoot down his spine at the way Kaner’s tongue curls up to touch the tip to the sharpest point of his canine and knows with sudden certainty that it’s _never_ going to go away. 

Jonny’s head goes quiet, all the sounds of the bar dimming to a faint background buzz. And then—

“I can fuck you better,” he says, and he had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth when he opened it, but it definitely wasn’t _that._ It’s such a— _Kaner_ thing to say, a line he’d use on a girl with an easy grin and loose shoulders, but. 

It’s true. He can fuck Kaner better than her, better than _anyone_ can. 

If Kaner’s shocked at Jonny’s initiation of what is probably—no _definitely_ —an earth-shattering and potentially life-ruining change to their dynamic, he doesn’t show it beyond the slightest hitch of the breath and widening of the eyes. But then they go dark instead, even as his lips turn up in a smile. "Yeah?" he says, quiet, low. 

"Yeah," Jonny says back, soft and far more serious than he means to. 

They’re pressed hip-to-hip now. Jonny doesn’t remember making the conscious choice to get closer, but it’s like his body made it for him, unable to stay away. Not anymore. 

The humor on Kaner's face dims, replaced by something Jonny can’t name. He’s not looking away, not even for a second, not even for a fraction of a second. They probably look really fucking weird, and Jonny idly hopes that none of their teammates are choosing to look over, because he doesn’t know how to explain this. 

Him and Kaner, sides pressed together. Him and Kaner, eyes locked. Him and Kaner, mouths inching closer and closer and only the baseline cognizance that they’re in a crowded bar in Chicago stopping them from moving that final inch. 

Kaner lets out a breath, and Jonny feels it ghost against his skin. He shivers, shiver turning into a shudder when Kaner brings the tip of a finger and traces the seam of Jonny’s lips, once. “Prove it,” he says softly, and just like that, their years-long game of gay chicken comes to an end on a random Thursday night in a hot space filled with dozens of strangers a few of the people that know them best in the world. Talking and dancing and laughing and ultimately invisible. Because in the end, it’s just him and Kaner. 

It always is. 

* * *

Kaner doesn’t bother telling his little brunette before leaving with Jonny. And it’s shitty, undeniably shitty, and Jonny should feel worse about it than he does. That is to say he should feel the slightest, _tiniest_ , bit bad. Because right now? He doesn’t. Not one bit. 

Can’t. Not with Kaner’s thigh a hot line against his in the Uber back to Kaner’s apartment, not with the way Kaner turns his head from looking out the window to shoot Jonny a slow, curling smile that has Jonny picturing putting him on the bed on all fours. Tight little ass popped out, begging for Jonny to fuck him harder as Jonny yanks his hair from behind every time he snaps his hips in. For the first time, Jonny doesn’t try to stamp the image out. 

He lets it sit in his mind, warm his gut, thicken his cock in his jeans. By the time they walk into Kaner’s apartment, his hands are almost shaking with the need to touch Kaner, and he makes himself clench them into fists to stop himself from just shoving Kaner up against a wall, to maintain even a shred of a facade of chill. 

Kaner’s lips turn up, slanting an amused look at Jonny like he knows exactly what Jonny’s thinking, and yeah. It’s stupid. Stupid to pretend, like Kaner doesn't know exactly how much he wants him. 

"You waiting for permission, Jonny?" Kaner drawls, head cocking to the side. And maybe it would piss Jonny off a bit, Kaner doing his whole smirky, cocksure show-and-dance. Except his eyes are bright, just as feverish as they had been in the context of the booming bass and packed bodies and dim lights, scanning across Jonny’s face in a way he can only describe as—

Hungry. 

And then in one fluid motion, Kaner's so close that Jonny can almost taste the salt of the sweat on his skin, nose nuzzled against the side of Jonny’s neck before he tilts his head back. "You've always had it," he whispers, lips brushing against Jonny’s ear, leaving Jonny to gasp at the weight of those words and the feeling of Kaner nudging his hips against his, front-to-front this time, keeping the pressure light, a tease of a thing. 

Jonny already _knew_ , but. Hearing it come out of Kaner's mouth still makes him feel dizzy with shock, a little noise catching at the back of his throat, hoarse and dark.

Kaner takes the opportunity to pull Jonny towards him and circle his hips once, hard and dirty before releasing his grip. Jonny chokes on a keen, own hips fucking forward to meet that hot press of cock under denim, but Kaner pulls back just as suddenly, leaving Jonny’s hips thrusting up needily in the air. 

Jonny’s hand shoots out, finger slipping through a belt loop on Kaner's jeans before he can get too far away. Kaner looks at the place Jonny has him trapped and makes no move to make Jonny let go. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth before he soothes over it with his tongue and continues. "Always had it," he repeats, impossibly soft. Still looking down. "Anytime. Anywhere." 

Jonny feels each word hit him straight in the chest, speeding up his breath. Makes his finger crook, tugging Kaner even tighter, and Kaner looks up at him. He steps close again, deliberate in his movements, and Jonny's grip on the belt loop goes slack as his mouth goes dry. 

Kaner reaches out and slips his hand under Jonny’s shirt, tracing his thumb over Jonny’s waistband, over and over, and Jonny has no choice but to groan and drop his face into the groove between Kaner’s shoulder and neck, parted lips dragging wetly over the warm skin turning into a hint of scraping teeth as Kaner strokes a knuckle across his hip bone. 

"You could've slid into my bed in the middle of the night, got in my shower. Hell, you could've had it in the locker room. Even with all the guys watching." 

Christ. _Christ_. He has to pull back at that, hears the groan tear out of his chest, eyes shutting tight out of their own accord and shudder wracking his body. Kaner’s filthy fucking mouth. “Asking for it Kaner,” he says roughly, fingers flexing at his sides. 

He used to wonder if maybe his fixation with fucking Kaner was just an extension of his desire to shut him the fuck up. Having gone through all the garden variety methods, he concluded that the only thing that might work was if someone were to put Kaner on his knees and shove a cock in his mouth. 

Or just—made him take it. Fuck the sly smirks and wicked words and unyielding cockiness right out of him. And then he started putting himself in the position of the previously faceless guy and realized that he doesn’t want to shut Kaner up, not at all. He wants to make Kaner loud in a different way entirely.

Kaner shoves his hips against Jonny’s, grinding in hard this time, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt until Jonny’s forehead knocks against his. "So _give it to me_ ," he says breathlessly, and Jonny has no choice but to kiss him. 

The first press of their lips hits Jonny like an electric shock, startling him back an inch before he dives back in greedily to see if it really was that good or if he’s just losing his goddamn mind, but no. It really _is_ that good, Kaner’s plush mouth meeting his with perfect pressure, teasing swipes of tongue, fingers petting delicately down the hollow of Jonny’s throat—Kaner’s hard body under his sending shivers down Jonny’s spine in a way he’s never felt when pressed up against a girl. 

Some distant part of his brain recognizes that they’re moving, stumbling towards Kaner’s bedroom. Kaner must be guiding him, because Jonny’s too occupied with cupping Kaner’s jaw in his hands and planting kisses down his neck, sucking and nipping at every inch of skin he can. 

They reach Kaner’s bed, Kaner scooting up onto the mattress to lean his upper back against the headboard and Jonny climbing on top, settling himself on his knees above him. He takes a second to breathe, scanning greedily over Kaner’s face. 

He’d been going hard, fast. Unable to tamp down on the desperation rushing through his body, and it shows. Kaner’s mouth is wet and red, already plump lips puffing up further. His eyes are glassy and there’s a hectic flush stealing over his cheeks, and he smiles, chest heaving up-and-down under his thin shirt. Tongue coming out and swiping delicately over his bottom lip, once. 

Jonny dips back in to capture it lightly between his teeth, slipping his hands under Kaner’s shirt to cup at his waist. Slides them around to palm up Kaner’s firm back in a hot, slow drag, revelling at the way his muscles shiver under Jonny’s touch. 

Their cocks rub against each other, hips going frantic and wanton in their mindless search for friction and Jonny has to hiss and dig his nails into the dimples in Kaner’s back when they get the rhythm of the thrusts just right. “ _Fuck_ _,_ ” Kaner whimpers out tightly, and Jonny moans in reponse. It’s good, _so_ good. Better than it has any right to be. 

But that’s not what Jonny’s been fantasizing about for years, and if he comes in his pants like a goddamn teenager before he gets to bury his cock inside Kaner’s ass, he’s never going to forgive himself. 

He grips Kaner’s hips in place, stilling them and forcing his own to do the same. Can’t help but give Kaner one last hard press of cock when he whines at the loss. Hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Kaner’s boxers and tugs. “Get these off,” he rasps, fingers shooting to pop the button open on his own jeans as he says it. He makes himself keep his eyes down, because he knows he’d never get his clothes off if he watched Kaner reveal himself inch-by-inch.

He drags down his zipper and hears Kaner do the same, and the intensity of the arousal that floods his body makes him suck in a quick breath. His hands are shaking, clumsy against his buttons, so he slows down. Makes himself take his time. Doesn’t look at Kaner, because he can’t. 

But then he’s done, body bared. He looks up, and Kaner’s lying on his back, miles of smooth skin over hard muscle. Pink nipples and pink mouth and hard cock lying against his belly, looking up at Jonny from underneath his ridiculously long lashes. 

“Fuck,” Jonny says, voice scratching out because he’s seen Kaner naked too many times to count, but not like this. Not all laid out and flushed and eyes roaming across Jonny’s abs and dipping down to linger on his dick. 

Kaner’s eyes drag back up Jonny’s body in a hot line and settle on his eyes. “You have me,” Kaner says. “Now how do you want me?” Quiet and plain, like he really will do whatever Jonny wants, no questions asked. 

Jonny stares for a few seconds, willing his brain to snap back online, but he’s being inundated with years worth of fantasies, Kaner on his hands and knees, Kaner clenching down on his cock, riding him with filthy little rolls of the hips. Kaner with his arms wrapped around Jonny’s neck, pretty mouth falling open on a gasp every time Jonny enters his body. 

It’s a lot—too much. So Jonny just—reaches out to touch, just to touch. Finds his fingers bracketing Kaner’s waist, clamping down tight and then—pulling Kaner towards him, settling Kaner on his lap as he lets out a startled gasp. Fits his thumbs into the hollows of Kaner’s hip bones, gratified by the way Kaner’s stomach clenches. Kaner’s watching him with heavy-lids and even breaths, like he’s waiting to see where Jonny’s going with this. 

Jonny releases his own shaky breath, overwhelmed by the weight of Kaner’s body on his. Idles the tip of his fingers on the smooth skin of Kaner’s lower back and flattens them as he spreads his hands, rubbing across the top of Kaner’s ass and then dipping lower, lower. 

Jonny can feel his heartbeat thudding in his ears, arousal tingling through him as he just _squeezes_ , fuck. “ _Fuck,_ ” he echoes out loud, because he can’t believe this is happening. “Fuck,” he says as he slowly kneads Kaner’s pert cheeks and Kaner lets him, wordlessly widening his legs when Jonny’s finger strokes its way towards the cleft of his ass. 

Jonny’s holds his breath as he travels down the split of Kaner, skin catching and dragging because of the sweat until he finds it, that tight pucker, so little under his fingers.

 _Fuck. Fuck._

Rubs over it again and again, cock aching at the thought of watching it open up around him, taking him deep. It's an image Jonny’s played in his head a thousand times, probably more. 

The fact that it's about to become a _reality_ makes his fingers shake.

He looks up to find Kaner watching him, an unreadable look on his face. “This what you want, Jonny?” Kaner says softly. He presses his ass into Jonny’s touch. 

Jonny sucks in a breath and sinks the tip of his finger inside Kaner’s hole and watches it clench hard. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Kaner,” he says roughly, trying to slowly inch his way in further. 

Kaner laughs, low and breathless, rolling his hips down to take Jonny down to the second knuckle in one go. “You _sure_?” he asks, rocking his hips minutely so he’s riding Jonny’s finger, arms looped around Jonny’s neck. 

Jonny’s torn between being _very_ annoyed and _very_ horny—which is an unfortunately common mixture of feelings he associates with being around Kaner—because this is hands down the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him, but Kaner’s being—weird. Weird in a way that Jonny’s unfamiliar with, and that makes him feel completely off-balance because Kaner’s weird should never be weird to _him._

Kaner regards him, a quick swipe down his face. Hips still moving in filthy little twitches, sliding Jonny’s finger in and out of his hole. Jonny's gotten pretty good at being able to identify Kaner's emotions over the years, but he can't parse this one for the life of him. There's a few moments of silence, and Jonny wonders if he should just _go_ for it. Maybe that's what Kaner's waiting for. But something holds him back. 

And then Kaner stills his hips, removes his arms from around Jonny’s neck. Smiles, slow. Eyes dark. He shakes his head. "Nah," he says simply.

Nah? _Nah?_ “What?” Jonny says blankly, wondering if he’s suddenly been transported to some alternate universe, and if so, how he can get back to the one where Kaner was riding his finger in preparation to take his dick and not sitting back idly, looking at him with a shrewd glint in his eye.

Kaner shrugs loosely, fingers traveling down to trace the place where Jonny’s finger is still lodged in his body. “This isn’t what you want,” he murmurs, stroking up and across Jonny’s knuckle. 

Jonny feels annoyance flare through him, sharp and bright. “I think I’ll be the judge of that,” he says, struggling to keep the irritation out of his voice. From the way Kaner’s lips twitch up in amusement, he doesn’t think he’s doing a very good job. 

“No,” Kaner says, reaching down and gently sliding Jonny’s finger out of his hole so that it flops limply at his sides. “You won’t,” he finishes, voice going smooth and firm and—authoritative, making Jonny’s stomach swoop wildly. 

Jonny’s getting serious whiplash here, but before he can ask what the fuck is going on, Kaner shoves at his shoulders, hard. A grunt leaves his mouth when his back suddenly hits the mattress, Kaner straddling his hips. 

Jonny’s breath catches in his throat when he takes in the look in Kaner’s eyes. “I _said_ , Jonathan,” Kaner lilts out, dangerously soft, sliding off and settling himself between the cradle of Jonny’s legs. “ _That’s._ ” Puts his hands around Jonny’s ankles. “ _Not._ ” Creeps them up Jonny’s legs. “ _What_.” Reaches the soft skin behind the bend of his knees. “ _You._ ” Digs his fingers in and splits Jonny’s legs open hard and wide. “ _Want,_ ” he ends on a whisper, spreading Jonny’s cheeks open and pressing his thumb directly against Jonny’s hole. 

“Wha— _fuck_ ,” Jonny breathes out, sucking in a startled breath. His abs and glutes clench up in surprise, legs trying to snap back together on instinct. Kaner doesn’t let them, catching and holding them open, pinning them apart with his wide shoulders. He meets Jonny’s eyes as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, cheeks hollowing out around them like he’s—

Jonny feels himself blush. 

Kaner winks at him, taking his wet fingers out of his mouth with a pop and rubs them over Jonny’s hole, and this isn’t—this wasn’t the plan. Like, at _all._ He opens his mouth to tell Kaner as much. Except when he does, moans filter out of his mouth instead, because—

It feels good. Like, _really_ fucking good. 

Jonny lets out a mortified little moan at the realization, something resembling embarrassment burning bright in his stomach as Kaner watches him process this, ahem, _new_ piece of information. 

Kaner slows down the rub to a dirty, dirty grind, making Jonny feel the full drag of the pad of his callused fingers and the way Jonny’s hole is desperately trying to suck them in. Jonny whines, heart beat rabbiting and brain scrambled into a million pieces. The embarrassment burns even brighter—but still, he can’t stop himself from rolling his hips down, trying to get more. 

Kaner’s eyes go hot, and he gives Jonny no warning other than a bright smile before he abruptly teases the tip of a finger inside, popping it past the ring of muscle and driving it up into Jonny’s body. 

Jonny cries out as his hole spasms violently around the digit, whole body clenching as shocks of pleasure travel across his skin, centering in his nipples and making his balls draw up tight. “Holy shit,” he chokes out weakly. Well, _that_ was certainly unexpected. 

Kaner stares down at—well—with fascination and then smiles, dark and filthy and _smug_. It makes shivers bloom across Jonny’s skull and he feels himself tighten around Kaner’s finger. “Knew it,” Kaner murmurs proudly, withdrawing his finger with a filthy _pop_ and petting at Jonny’s hole like it’s a fucking kitten. Jonny valiantly tries to ignore how empty he feels, but his body betrays him, hole clenching down hard around nothing. 

Kaner whistles, low and admiring, and Jonny makes a note to Google how hard a person can blush before it becomes hazardous to their health. Assuming he makes it out of this alive, that is—which is a bold assumption to make.

“Thought your dick was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen,” Kaner murmurs, still rubbing Jonny’s rim in little circles, eyes flicking up to where Jonny’s dick is dripping against his abs. “But your hole gives it a real run for its money,” he says, perfectly sincere. 

“Shit, Kaner,” Jonny moans, closing his eyes. Filthy _fucking_ mouth. He rubs his cheeks against his biceps, trying to ground himself, _trying_ to figure out exactly how it is he came to be here, ass tilted up for Patrick Kane. 

This is—stupid. He wants to fuck Kaner, _fuck_ him, pound him open, make him take his cock, has for fucking _years._ He tries to conjure the familiar images to remind himself, dozens of iterations of his hands tangled in Kaner’s disastrous curls, pulling hard. Kaner’s round ass taking his cock in so good, breathy moans filtering out of his mouth as Jonny gives it to him hard and fast.

But all he can see is himself on all fours, Kaner rutting into him from behind, dragging Jonny’s hips back to spear him on his fat cock, over and over and _over_ and Jonny shudders, bright white heat searing up his spine, dick spitting up precome and hole throbbing so hard he has to spread his legs a fraction wider to try and get some relief. Except he finds himself going further, spreading intentionally now, inviting Kaner in. Can’t help himself, because maybe this wasn’t the plan, but. 

It feels so fucking _good._

Kaner makes a low noise, wrenching his cheeks apart again, spitting directly on Jonny’s hole. It's wet and sudden and objectively gross, but it's also so fucking hot that Jonny’s hips try to buck up on instinct, the solid weight of Kaner's broad hands pinning him down the only reason his ass isn't about three feet in the air. 

He can feel his hole twitch as the spit dribbles down, some of it flirting its way inside and some sliding past his taint and onto the sheets. 

“Fuck,” Kaner says softly, dragging a finger through the slick mess, and Jonny can feel his ears go hot at imagining what Kaner’s seeing. “You ever touch yourself down here, Jonny?”

Jonny doesn’t bother to dignify that with a response, feeling his face slip into a scowl because what a man does or does _not_ stick up his ass is his own goddamn business. Kaner looks at him while he teases two fingers in and around Jonny’s hole, and Jonny can feel it go looser, easier, open with the spit slicking the way. 

Apparently his silence was answer enough, because Kaner lets out another whistle, regretful this time. “Fucking shame. You see how greedy your little hole is?” Of course, Jonny’s hole clenches on cue _._ “No wonder,” Kaner continues. “It’s cock-starved.” He ducks down, laying a light, quick kiss on the pucker, like he’s trying to kiss it better. 

Holy _shit._

And that’s about when Jonny loses any ability to intelligibly converse, make noise, and generally exist, because he’s having a _spectacularly_ hard time trying to breathe, lack of oxygen and dangerous amounts of arousal hazing his brain out into a clusterfuck of lust and confusion. 

“Hey,” a voice cuts in, and Jonny blinks, not realizing that he’d even closed his eyes in the first place. He stares up at Kaner’s blue eyes, serious and clear. “I’ll feed it real good, don’t you worry,” Kaner promises earnestly, slowly nestling his hard cock between Jonny’s cheeks. “Is that what you want, Jonny?” 

Jonny can’t _think._ Can’t think past Kaner’s cock— _Kaner’s cock—_ between his cheeks, the undeniable throb of his hole. Can’t think past the fact that for years, all he's thought about is bending Kaner over. And now, he apparently wants to bend over _for_ him.

It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t compute, but he does, _god_ he does. He's never been aware of that part of himself, never even _thought_ about it. Never knew how it could feel to be touched there. But now that he's had Kaner's fingers rubbing dirty-slick over him, just barely dipping in—he wants Kaner inside him so badly his teeth ache with it. 

Jonny’s not a complete idiot—he knows that just because someone likes a couple of fingers rubbing against their asshole doesn’t actually guarantee taking a whole dick up the ass is going to be a good time. But—

But. 

If it feels anything like what _that_ felt like? He has to find out. 

“Yeah,” Jonny says finally, feeling his skin go hot and tight at the admission, and Kaner smiles, surprisingly sweet and soft, ducking down to kiss him hard and desperate in contrast. 

Kaner puts Jonny on his hands and knees. 

He’s completely bared to Kaner’s gaze, arc of his back going tense as Kaner shuffles around to grab lube. The tension’s replaced by something else entirely when Kaner knee-walks back to place and his breath stutters hard, a soft _“god,”_ falling from his lips. 

Jonny feels a surprising hum of pleasure tingle at the base of his spine, something removed from the pervasive arousal coursing through his body but potent nonetheless, somehow darker at the edges. He finds his spine bending, ass tilting up on instinct, pleasure tinting even darker when he’s rewarded with another wrecked “ _Christ, Jonny.”_

Kaner smooths his broad hands over Jonny’s lower back, sweeping down over Jonny’s cheeks, kneading the flesh and slapping it lightly. It makes Jonny moan, head dropping to his forearms and ass popping up further still. 

Kaner takes the opportunity to spread Jonny’s cheeks and finger Jonny open until he’s gasping and shaking, overwhelmed by how good the thick twist of Kaner’s fingers inside him is, lips swollen from the effort of biting down to keep the full evidence of how thoroughly Kaner’s wrecking him to himself.

“Knew you'd look perfect like this,” Kaner says, watching the drag of his fingers in and out of Jonny’s body, how Jonny’s hole clings to him needily every time he tries to withdraw. Jonny stills automatically, shoulders stiffening with surprise. Kaner laughs softly, leaning forward to drape his body over Jonny’s, abandoning Jonny’s hole to press a hot line of kisses down the knobs of Jonny’s spine. 

“What, you thought you were the only one who thought about it?” he murmurs, into the dip of Jonny’s lower back. His fingertips flirt with the cleft of Jonny’s ass, spreading his cheeks apart with the lightest of touches. “The only one who pictured it, again and again and again?” 

He emphasizes each word with a sucking kiss to Jonny’s tender, open hole, tongue sneaking its way inside on the last one. “Kaner, _fuck,_ ” Jonny whimpers out, unable to help his hips from grinding back, seeking the press of Kaner’s obscene mouth against him. 

“Oh Jonny,” Kaner says, breath ghosting over Jonny’s hole, rubbing his stubbled cheeks against the sensitive skin of Jonny’s ass. “You've been on your knees for me 24 fucking 7.” He presses his forehead to Jonny’s cheek for emphasis, and Jonny’s limbs almost give out at the sheer enormity of the realization that while he was imagining bending Kaner over every conceivable surface, Kaner was imagining the same thing in regards to him. 

Jonny hears the sound of a condom packet being torn and he shivers both in anticipation and in apprehension. He feels Kaner’s hand low on his back again, solid and grounding. “Look at you,” he says, voice awed. “Hands and knees, ass presented.” He gives Jonny’s ass a light smack. “Just begging for a cock, aren't you?” The words are filthy, the tone of them _filthy,_ and Jonny breathes in, breathes out. Focuses on the stretch at the back of his wrists, at his shoulders, the fluttering of his hole and how it got faster, more desperate with Kaner’s filthy, _filthy_ words. 

Drops his head down and arches his back up as steeply as he can, ass popping out so far he knows he goes beyond looking easy. Knows he looks like a slu—

“Yeah,” he says softly, voice even, giving into it. Letting the burn of embarrassment transform to a sparking thrill in his belly, a sense of power thrumming through his veins. He turns his head so that he can see Kaner when he finally reaches back to pry his own cheeks apart, baring his slick, open hole to Kaner’s gaze. 

Kaner stares at it like he can’t believe his eyes, and the thrumming grows stronger, belly sparking to a low simmer. Jonny swallows, wetting his throat. "So _give it to me_ ," he says roughly, echoing Kaner’s words earlier. He can tell Kaner remembers by the way he shudders hard, eyes fluttering shut and cheeks pink as he squeezes his cock at the base. 

He opens his eyes, and they’re dark. Fingers dig into Jonny’s hips and haul him back sharply, startling him into spinning back around and scrabbling at the sheets to get a grip. He feels Kaner’s heavy cock grind against his ass and he moans, settling back into his original stance, grounding his palms against the mattress. 

“Gonna give it to you so good you’ll think about this every fucking day, every _fucking_ where,” Kaner bites out, and suddenly the hot weight of Kaner’s cock is gone. Jonny can’t help but let out a small noise of protest that strangles in his throat when he feels the head of Kaner’s cock nudge up against his slick entrance. 

“In your bed,” Kaner says, putting just enough pressure for his thick cockhead to push just past the greedy suck of Jonny’s rim and pause there. “In the grocery store, on the ice,” Kaner continues, giving Jonny just a little more cock, enough for the burn of it to register. Jonny sucks in a quick breath, the realization that he’s taking a dick hitting him hard and fast, making him dizzy. 

“In the fucking locker room, Captain face on, talking to all the guys about the game, none of them having _any_ fucking idea that all you’re thinking about is how good I filled you up,” Kaner finishes on a growl, fucking his cock all the way in until his hips bump up against Jonny’s ass. 

Jonny chokes, muscles going tight and hole twitching frantically as it tries to accommodate the sudden girth of Kaner’s cock, to process the way it’s taking up every inch of available space in his body, making everything ache and burn and _hot-hot-hot_. It’s so much, so fucking much, and Jonny wants _more_ , needs _more_. Needs to feel Kaner grind up into him, pound him open, _fuck_ him.

 _“_ Prove it, _”_ Jonny says breathlessly, even though Kaner already has a thousand times over, but it has the intended effect—a sharp press of nails into his hips, and then Kaner’s pressing hard between his shoulders, pushing him down and putting him in a new position where his palms are split wide apart, legs following suit. 

Kaner takes advantage of the space, covering Jonny’s body completely with his, and his lips brush lightly against the back of Jonny’s neck as he slides out of his ass in one fluid motion and thrusts back in on the next beat. 

_“Oh,”_ Jonny chokes out, and he can feel Kaner’s lips turn up in a smile against his skin. That was—

That was—

Kaner does it again, dragging out slow and snapping in hard and deep, repeats and repeats and Jonny clenches his fists tight against the sheets, because “Oh my _god_ ,” he gasps, brain shorting out at the magnitude of what he’s feeling.The burn, the stretch, the drag, the _thrust_. Kaner’s biceps flexing against his sides where they’re bracketing his body, the solid ridges of his abs brushing across the top of Jonny’s ass when he rolls his hips. 

Kaner’s fingers digging into his waist, Kaner _taking_ him—it’s _insane,_ Jonny feels insane, like every part of his body is experiencing its own chemical high, and it’s all-encompassing in a way that sticking your dick in someone could never be. 

Kaner doesn’t give him any warning—just lightly sinks the tip of his teeth into the place where Jonny’s back meets his neck and starts—fucking him, hard and fast. Not having sex with, not hooking up with, _fucking_ —there’s no other way to describe this new relentless rhythm, brutal in its precision, fat cock striking against Jonny’s prostate so perfectly with every stroke inside that it almost feels calculated to wreck him in the most devastating way possible.

“Bet you thought you were gonna bend me right over, didn’t you Jonny?” Kaner murmurs, breath warm on Jonny’s skin, a light, shivery counterpoint of contact to the place where his cock is plunging into Jonny’s body. Jonny can’t answer him, dropping his head forward because he _did_ think that, and the only thing coming out of his mouth are these involuntary little _uh-uh-uh’s_ that he can’t seem to stop. “Got off on the thought of me taking it, didn’t you, baby?”

Jonny can feel the muscles in his shoulder quiver, and he takes a shaky breath in and whispers out a “yeah,” heart stuttering at Kaner calling him—

Kaner drops a kiss on the top of his spine. “Know you did,” he says like he’s forgiving Jonny, peppering kisses down to the side of Jonny’s neck. “But Jonny—” All of a sudden Jonny’s getting pulled back and settled onto Kaner’s thighs, practically sitting on his dick, because Kaner’s stopped moving. 

One of Kaner’s hands moves from where they’re cradling Jonny’s waist, fingers splayed wide, reaching around to caress over Jonny’s abs. “You were _made_ for this,” Kaner says, squeezing Jonny’s waist and giving him a single, hard thrust. 

Jonny moans, a laugh bubbling in his throat despite himself. “What, made to take cock?” He asks breathlessly, any attempt at chirping utterly ruined by the fact of how he’s squirming around on Kaner’s dick, trying to get him to start up that mind-melting rhythm again. 

Kaner’s hand comes up to cradle the back of Jonny’s skull, nudging gently until Jonny twists his head back. Kaner cups Jonny’s face between his hands, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones as he gives Jonny a deep, lingering kiss, hands then sliding back to grip at Jonny’s waist again, but lips staying pressed to Jonny’s. 

“Made to take _my_ cock,” he murmurs right into Jonny’s mouth as he starts to jackhammer up into Jonny’s body, pressing gentle little kisses to Jonny’s lips all the while. Jonny gasps out, words hitting him right in the chest, aftershocks rippling through his body in waves. “Look at you,” Kaner says, genuine awe in his voice. “No one takes it better.” 

Jonny can’t stop his lips from tearing away from Kaner’s, head dropping forward and muscles shuddering at the intensity of the new pace Kaner’s set. It's an impressive feat of strength on Kaner’s part, making Jonny ride the edge of too much so closely that it’s—perfect. 

And no one else could ever give it to him like this. 

Jonny hears himself letting out hurt little moans, hips rolling back onto Kaner’s cock out of their own accord, trying to meet his vicious thrusts and he doesn’t know how he’s going to walk around day-to-day life after this without feeling achingly empty inside. 

“You’re going to give this to me whenever I fucking want,” Jonny says abruptly, clenching down as hard around Kaner’s dick as he can to indicate _exactly_ what he’s talking about. Kaner swears, missing a stroke and then stopping altogether, babbling out a “Holy _fuck,_ Jonny. _”_

Jonny cranes his head back to meet Kaner’s gaze directly. He looks completely wrecked, face pink all over and hair even messier than it was at the bar, staring at Jonny with his mouth parted and blinking hard. “Want to sit on it,” Jonny enunciates, keeping his gaze directed straight at Kaner and rolling his hips back to take Kaner’s cock into his body. 

Kaner’s eyes flutter shut, teeth sinking into his lip, sharp hiss of air whistling through them. “Wanna ride it, use it every fucking day,” Jonny says hoarsely, fucking himself on Kaner’s dick, demonstrating by using it like a toy. And Kaner lets him, opening his eyes and staring down at Jonny taking his pleasure from his cock. 

He shakes himself, taking the hands that were hanging limply at his sides and gripping Jonny’s waist again. “I told you,” he says hoarsely, looking up at Jonny with serious eyes. “You’ve always had it, Jonny. Always,” he finishes softly, and Jonny feels something enormous swell in his chest in response. Kaner starts fucking him again _,_ using his strong arms to drag Jonny back onto his cock this time along with his hips snapping in hard. 

It doesn’t take much longer after that. Jonny comes first and it’s kind of mortifying—not necessarily _because_ he came first, but more because Kaner made him come untouched, jizz shooting all over his abs just because of how good Kaner was fucking him. 

Jonny lets Kaner keep rutting into his oversensitive hole afterwards. “You sure?” Kaner asks, biting his lips and looking down at Jonny’s hole. “It looks tender,” he says softly, tracing the thin skin around it. “Looks used.” His voice cracks and Jonny clenches down for him.

“Use it some more,” he says simply, and Kaner swears, fucking in hard until he blows his load. Jonny didn’t bother to mention that him letting Kaner fuck him after he came had less to do with the fact that he’s generous and more to do with the fact that he suspected it would feel good. 

It did. 

Kaner slips out, groaning and collapsing back onto the bed, head lolling to the side as he takes deep breaths. “Fuck,” he says succinctly, and yeah, that pretty much sums it up. 

When Jonny thought fucking Kaner was guaranteed to cause some sort of earth-shattering phenomenon, he wasn’t exactly picturing the discovery of his apparent love of taking dick, but here Jonny is. Lying next to Kaner, covered in sweat, hole throbbing because Kaner’s huge cock was just pounding it open. 

Christ. 

Maybe he should think about heading home, clearing his head. Yeah, that’s—

A hand reaches out to wrap around his bicep, pulling him. Jonny blinks, finding himself face-to-face with Kaner. His skin’s flushed, hair matted with sweat, eyes slitted open and blinking slowly. “You’re staying right here,” he says simply, voice leaving no room for argument. He scoots up so he can tuck Jonny’s forehead into the hollow of his throat, and preemptively presses a silencing finger onto Jonny’s lips.

Jonny swallows hard, a rush of _what-ifs_ and _how-comes_ and _what-the-fucks_ flooding his mind and making his body tense. And then he feels a hand rubbing against his back, the touch gentle, intentional. Circling again and again until Jonny realizes he’s mostly relaxed. Kaner stills his movements, and his hand comes up to stroke through Jonny’s hair instead. 

It must be disgusting, if the state of Kaner’s own hair is anything to go by. But he keeps up the even strokes anyway, and Jonny shivers with contentment, tucking his nose against Kaner’s throat. “I’ve wanted that forever,” Kaner says quietly, breaking the silence between them. Jonny feels heat flood his cheeks, involuntarily burying his face deeper into Kaner’s neck at the tingle of pleased embarrassment. “Yeah?” he says, voice muffled. 

Kaner laughs, low and warm. “Yeah.” He nudges Jonny’s face out of the crook of his neck, scanning over his face for a few seconds. “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says, and Jonny instinctively tucks his chin down, burning. Kaner catches it with a crooked finger, tilting it up so he can kiss Jonny, slow and syrupy-sweet. “ _You’re_ the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says against Jonny’s lips, thumb gently tracing the line of his jaw. 

“Shut up,” Jonny says on instinct, face flaming at the memory of what he did, what he said. 

He feels Kaner’s curls brush against his forehead as he shakes his head. “Won’t,” he says. “God, Jonny. You have any idea how many times I’ve pictured that, dreamed about it?”

Jonny has some idea, yeah. Thinking about how that turned out makes him squirm even more. Kaner’s hand drapes over his waist, reaching around to smooth a slow palm from his lower back to the top of Jonny’s ass. Jonny tenses, suddenly hyper-aware of the ache. “What ar—”

“You’re not just a dream come to life,” Kaner says, nosing down and placing a kiss at the hollow of Jonny’s throat. “You’re _better_.” His hand squeezes a cheek, skating over the cleft of Jonny’s ass. “I’m so lucky,” he says quietly. Jonny lets out a shuddery sigh, involuntarily spreading his legs so that Kaner can tease a few fingers between his cheeks, careful not to get too close to Jonny’s hole but flirting around it. 

It’s surprisingly soothing, and Jonny loses himself to it, everything else fading except for the gentle touch of Kaner’s fingers on his skin. Still, his mind can’t help but wander to what happened, how it happened. Years of fantasies, and then—

Jonny swallows. “So, do you not like, um,” he says, only realizing after the fact that he provided absolutely no context and now has to actually _explain,_ which is a horrifying concept. 

“Getting fucked?” Kaner offers, fortunately perceptive—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, and Jonny feels that embarrassment burn in his stomach again, even though it’s not as bright as before. When he looks up, Kaner’s face is devoid of a smirk, not a trace of cockiness to be found. 

It makes something in Jonny loosen and something else entirely flutter rapidly. “Yeah,” he says, making himself keep eye contact. 

Kaner shrugs. “S’okay. Not really my usual thing,” he says, and Jonny feels a rush of shame course through his body, feeling suddenly and incredibly stupid about his years of fantasies. He guesses it’s a good thing it turned out _he_ likes getting fucked, because otherwise he wouldn’t get to have Kaner at all. “I would let you, though,” Kaner continues, oblivious to the flood of thoughts going through Jonny’s head.

Jonny stills. “What, really?” 

Kaner grins at him, bumping their noses together. “Jonny, I’d let you do anything to me,” he murmurs, scrunching his brows like it’s obvious and Jonny’s silly for even asking. “Put me on my knees for you, my back. Let you take anything you want. My mouth. My hole,” he says, voice lowering dangerously. “Want me to ride you, baby? Sit on your dick and make it feel good?”

Jonny lets out a harsh breath, each image hitting him like a punch to the gut. But ultimately, a new one emerges that stands out amongst the rest. “Can I, uh,” he starts, “Do that?” He can already feel his cheeks pink up, partially due to the fact that he’d already _very loudly_ declared his intention to _do that_. But he figures it’s probably polite to actually ask properly. “Ride you, I mean?” He clarifies hastily.

He can barely believe he’s saying the words out loud, asking like this. But the look on Kaner’s face quells any hesitation he had, replacing it with that low curl of pleasure and pride. “Shit, Jonny,” Kaner breathes out. “Yeah. Yeah we can do that, baby.” And Jonny has no choice but to reach up and kiss him.

“I’ve wanted you forever too,” Jonny says against Kaner’s lips and then freezes, heart rate racing. That’s _very_ different from ‘I’ve wanted _this_ forever, too’ and fuck, this is embarrassing. He opens his mouth to correct himself, but nothing comes out. Looks into Kaner’s eyes, so fucking beautiful that they make Jonny’s breath catch sometimes, takes a breath, and shuts his mouth deliberately. 

A wide smile bursts across Kaner’s face, crinkling up the corners of his eyes. “Jonny,” he says, voice curling around his name like it’s precious. “You’ve always had me.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://tarcanza.tumblr.com/) for updates and also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tarcanza). Come say hi!


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